Bad Intentions by Tara Wyatt

13

The elevator doors opened and Olivia followed Lucian into his loft-style penthouse. By the time she’d finished packing and they’d made their way from her place to his on the Upper West Side, night had fallen over the city, leaving behind the day’s heat while the city twinkled to life.

Enormous floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city below, the shadowy greenery of Central Park off to the right, the Hudson sparkling darkly to the left. The space was open, with a living room directly in front of her filled with chocolate brown leather furniture and a massive stone fireplace built into the wall. On her immediate right was a kitchen done in sleek black and satiny concrete finishes with high-end appliances. Stools lined up facing the island, and a chrome and glass round table sat just beyond it.

She took a few more steps, moving farther inside, taking it all in. Past the kitchen was a small set of stairs leading to what she assumed was the master suite. To the left was a hallway, probably containing another bedroom or two and a bathroom. Leaving her suitcase by the door, she walked through the living room, her gaze drawn to the city’s lights. But before she could reach the windows, she spotted a piano tucked into the corner off the living room, all by itself in a windowed alcove. It gleamed softly in the dim light, polished and sleek.

“Do you play?” she asked, gesturing at it. He stood several feet away, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. She couldn’t tell if he liked having her in his space, or if this was making him uncomfortable.

He nodded. “I do. We all took lessons as kids, but I’m the only one who still plays.”

“Can I hear?” She wanted to ask him so many things that had previously been off-limits. Things about his family, his childhood. She bit her lip as another wave of doubt crashed into her. Despite the way he’d reassured her earlier, she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be together if it weren’t for the fact that Massimo was stalking her.

He hesitated for a second before moving toward the piano. “Just don’t ask me to sing,” he said, flashing her a grin as he pulled out the bench and sat down. She leaned a hip against the piano, facing him, wanting to watch his hands as he played. She stared, entranced, as his fingers started moving over the keys, the familiar strains of John Lennon’s “Imagine” floating through the air.

An emotion she’d never experienced before crashed into her, a sweet, tender ache that started in her chest and gradually took over her entire body, making her chest tight and her heart flutter. Making her stomach swirl and her hands tingle. Warmth flowed over her as she watched and listened, making her feel euphoric. Making her feel whole in a way she hadn’t even known she’d needed.

She’d never been in love with anyone before, but holy shit, was she ever in love with Lucian. And it wasn’t because he could play the piano, or because he looked like a dark Roman god, or because he’d made her come six times in just a couple of hours. It was because of who he was, the real him, that she saw beneath the veneer he showed everyone. The protector, the man with scars who didn’t see himself as worthy of love or happiness, the intense, intelligent man she wanted to know everything about. He had layers upon layers and she wanted to peel them all back, one by one.

Because while she was his, he was also hers. And she wanted every part of him.

As the last strains of the song vibrated through the air, she sat down on the bench and took his face in her hands, bringing her lips to his for a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, and he exhaled sharply, his hands sliding around her waist. When she pulled back, she swallowed thickly, needing to get something off of her chest. “I hope you don’t feel like I—I trapped you or tricked you. I know we’ve been circling each other for a long time, and you’ve always said no because of the complications in your life and our age difference. And I’m incredibly grateful that you’re here and you’re protecting me from Massimo, but I just…I don’t want to force you into something you don’t actually want.”

His features tightened and he slipped a hand under her chin, tilting her face up and forcing her to meet his eyes. “This was an inevitability, Liv, one I’m kicking myself for fighting against so long. If I’d done what we both wanted years ago and made you mine—what I should’ve done—then you wouldn’t be in this situation with that fucker. I should’ve—” He broke off, flinching. “There is nothing about this that I don’t want. I’m only sorry that it took me so long to finally—”

She cut him off with a kiss, her fingers weaving into his hair, holding him close as happiness and relief tangled together in her chest. “Don’t be sorry. The past is done and we can’t change it. I’m happy with where we are right now. Well, mob hit man stalker aside.”

He frowned, his hand tracing up and down her back. Then he stood, extending his hand to her. “I need to show you something.” She wove her fingers through his and stood from the piano bench, letting him lead her into his bedroom. An enormous king-sized bed dominated the far wall, and more enormous windows looked out onto Central Park. The furniture was sleek and modern, the entire room done in shades of gray, blue, and white. She inhaled, pulling the scent of him into her lungs, a tiny thrill dancing through her at the fact that she was standing in Lucian’s bedroom after all these years.

He led her past the bed—a bed she was positive they’d make excellent use of in the near future—and to a door almost hidden in the corner, sealed with a biometric lock.

“I’ve never shown this to anyone. Not my brothers, not even my colleagues,” he said, a tightness around his eyes. “But you need to know the truth of who I am and what I do.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, steeling herself for whatever was behind that door. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to let it push her away.

He pressed his thumb to the lock, and there was a loud beep followed by a whirring sound as the door clicked open. He pushed it in, then took her hand and gently pulled her inside. The lights must’ve been on a motion sensor, because as soon as they stepped into the surprisingly large closet, the recessed pot lights in the ceiling flickered to life.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, her eyes bouncing around as she took it all in. All three walls were covered in racks and shelves, holding enough weapons to arm an entire militia. There were guns, dozens and dozens of them in varying sizes. An impressive collection of knives. Metal boxes labeled with things like C-4 and dynamite. “Are those…” She moved closer to one wall, not touching anything. “These are grenades.”

He nodded, the expression on his face solemn. Worried.

Her eyes moved to a large, plastic-looking gun mounted to the wall. It almost looked like an enormous water gun, like a Super Soaker, but with a little can of gas attached to it…

“Is that a flamethrower?” she asked, her eyes going wide when he nodded.

The last wall held other various weapons. Baseball bats, crowbars, brass knuckles. She felt warm as she tried to take it all in. This wasn’t just a gun closet. This was a freaking arsenal.

Without saying anything, he moved to the corner where a metal locker stood, containing tactical gear. Bullet proof vests, cargo pants, Kevlar gloves. At the bottom of the locker was a small safe. Lucian jabbed in the combination and swung it open, showing her what had to be hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash stashed in there.

A backless leather bench sat in the middle of the room, and she assumed it was where he sat when he geared himself up for whatever the fuck it was he did. She sank down onto it now, her head spinning.

“So, about that explanation,” she said, her stomach churning. From the look on his face, she had the feeling she wasn’t going to like whatever it was he had to tell her.

He shoved a hand through his hair and then stuffed them both in his pockets, looking more restless than she’d ever seen him. It was costing him a lot to show her this.

“When I was barely more than a kid, I was on the fast track to mob life until I saved the lives of the heads of the Italian Irish mafia. It’s a long story, and the details aren’t important right now. What is important is that I’m part of a group called the Kings of Hell’s Kitchen, and we’re very much involved in Manhattan’s organized crime world.”

“So are you…” She licked her lips, trying to keep up. She wasn’t completely shocked by his admission, but she was struggling to process it all the same. “Are you rivals with the mob?”

He shook his head. “No. We keep the peace. We arbitrate disputes and hand out justice. We make sure the playing field is even, and we’re neutral. Whether it’s the mob, the Irish mafia, the Bratva, the Yakuza, they all accept our position and trust us to keep things fair and quiet.”

“Mobsters care about fairness?” she asked.

“You’d be surprised. Organized crime isn’t like street gangs. There’s a code of honor. There are rules and expectations. We enforce those.”

“So you’re not in the mob, but…” She bit her lip, trying to figure out where he fit in that world.

“I’m not a good guy, either, Olivia. I’m just as bad as guys like Massimo. I have different motivations, but the outcome is often the same.”

She blinked slowly, looking around the room again. He’d told her that his life was dangerous and complicated. He’d told her he was even more dangerous than Massimo. He’d been giving her bits and pieces of this story for a while, and now she was finally getting to put it all together.

He sat down on the bench beside her. “Ask me anything you want, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for things she knew she might not want to hear. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

He didn’t flinch. “Yes.” She could see the pain etched on his face, and her heart broke for him. She didn’t hate that he was a criminal. She hated what it cost him.

“Do you—the Kings of Hell’s Kitchen—do other organized crime stuff, like selling drugs, trafficking weapons, prostitution?” Her stomach churned sickly at the idea of Lucian being involved in pushing drugs or trafficking women. That idea bothered her more than the fact he was an admitted murderer.

“No. All of our activities are strictly related to keeping everyone in line. We arbitrate disputes and hand out punishments that everyone agrees on.”

“What kind of punishments?” she whispered, her throat tight even as relief trickled through her.

He gestured at the weapon-covered walls. “Violent ones. They have to be severe to keep everyone in line and prevent innocent people from getting hurt.”

“Do…do you like it? The violence?”

He paused, staring at the wall covered in knives. “I can’t deny that there’s a darkness inside me. But I’m mostly numb to it, and I don’t seek it out.” He turned to her, his brown eyes full of pain. “I’d never hurt you or any innocent person, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She reached out and took his hands, weaving her small fingers through his much larger ones. “I know you’d never hurt me. I promise.” She traced her thumb over his knuckles, waiting to feel something other than sympathy and curiosity. Waiting for something ugly like fear. Revulsion. Disgust. But it wasn’t there. All of this…it made sense. His darkness was yet another reason she’d always been drawn to him, sensing that he could use some light in his life. “So…are you the—the leader? Of the Kings of Hell’s Kitchen?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have several men who work for me, who’ve come from other organized crime families. I gave them asylum when they needed a place to land.” He must’ve seen what she was thinking—that there he went again, protecting others—because he shook his head. “I’m not a good guy, Olivia. None of what I do is legal or good or okay.”

She lifted one shoulder, shrugging. “I don’t know. It kinda sounds to me like you’re the Batman of organized crime. You keep things fair, make the bad people pay, strive to keep things safe for innocent people. I know it’s not legal, but that doesn’t mean that you’re evil. You keep the evil at bay. You sacrifice your own soul and your own peace for the sake of others.”

She could see the raw emotion on his face just before he leaned in and kissed her, hard and deep, taking what he clearly needed. What she was happy to give.

When they broke apart, her breathing was a little faster than it had been before the kiss. “So…tell me about this mob war you might’ve started.”

He sighed. “My position in this world is precarious. The Kings of Hell’s Kitchen are strictly neutral—we don’t play favorites and we treat everyone with the same rules and standards. We don’t involve ourselves in mob—or Bratva or Yazuka, or whatever—business. Ever. But Massimo is part of the Cosa Nostra, and he now has a very personal beef with me. By telling him you’re mine and threatening him off, I might’ve just fired the first shot.”

“But what you told him is the truth, and you were just protecting me. You didn’t instigate anything.”

He nodded and kissed her again. “I know. But I’m involved now. It’s me versus Massimo, and potentially the Kings of Hell’s Kitchen against the Italian mafia. If that happens, everyone will have to take sides and it might get ugly.”

Guilt speared through her, making her chest tight to the point of aching. “I’m sorry. I never meant to put you in that position.”

He shook his head slowly, meeting her eyes. “Keeping you safe is what matters, Liv. I’ll burn the fucking city down if I have to to keep you safe.” He glanced away then, his features tight, pain and doubt and guilt all right there for her to see. She scooted over and climbed into his lap, straddling him, wanting to comfort him and give him what he needed.

“Nothing you’ve told me changes how I feel about you. In fact, a lot of what I know about you makes a lot more sense now. But this isn’t scaring me away. This doesn’t make me want to be with you any less. I love you, and I accept every single part of you, no matter how dark.”

He let out a soft, anguished sound. “Christ, I don’t deserve you.”

She kissed him, deep and slow. “Yes. You do. Just like I deserve you. You’re a strong man who gives everything he has to protect people. And I think that’s sexy as fuck.” She kissed a path down his neck, shifting against him. “I think every single thing about you is sexy as fuck, Lucian. I have for years, and seeing this, knowing the details, it doesn’t change that.” She pulled her head back and met his eyes. “Because while I might be yours, I think you’re forgetting something important.”

“What’s that?” he asked her, relief and heat sparking in his eyes.

“You’re also mine. Mine to love. Mine to accept. Mine to care for. Mine.”

“Fuck, Liv,” he breathed, and then his mouth crashed into hers, the kiss hot and intense. She moaned, wrapping herself around him even tighter. “Should’ve fucking claimed you years ago,” he ground out, his fingers weaving into her hair as he blazed a trail down her neck with his lips and teeth.

“I’m not going anywhere now,” she said, her voice high and breathy as arousal pulsed through her. She was sore from how hard he’d fucked her earlier, and her ass still stung, but she didn’t care. She wanted him. Needed him.

Urgency spread between them as they kissed, shedding their clothing in record time. It still felt like a beautiful miracle that this was her reality now, getting naked with Lucian, his mouth hot and urgent on hers, those delicious, deep groans rumbling in his chest.

Their clothing quickly ended up in a heap on the floor of the weapons closet. When they were both naked, he eased back on the wide bench, pulling her down on top of him. She let out a shivery sigh at the feeling of his broad, muscled body pressed against hers, a sweet ache throbbing from between her legs. He was already making good on his earlier promise—she felt like something was missing when he wasn’t inside her.

With her palms splayed on his wide chest, she sat up, leveraging herself on her toes to drag her pussy over his cock. She was already slick and throbbing, which seemed to be her default mode around him. Especially now that she knew how good it was between them. She’d always known it would be, but everything they’d done had surpassed even her wildest fantasies and highest expectations.

“I want you to fuck me in here,” she said, her voice coming out all shivery as she worked herself over his cock, his hands gripping her hips firmly. “In this secret part of your world that you were scared to show me.”

He let out a low growl and sat up then, his arms circling around her waist. “Hands and knees on the bench, sweetheart,” he said, and then kissed her, hard and deep, the sweeping rhythm of his tongue a dirty promise. They kissed for several minutes, until her breathing was ragged and her hips were writhing. Until she felt like she was going to die if he wasn’t inside her now.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled herself away from him and then did as he’d asked, maneuvering herself onto her hands and knees on the bench. Lucian stood, walking in a slow circle all the way around her, his hard cock bobbing as he walked, a bead of moisture visible at the tip. Coming around behind her, he stroked a hand up her spine and into her hair, winding the loose strands around his fist. She whimpered, the gentle tug making her arch her back.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and she felt the slide of his cock through her folds. “How the fuck did I survive the past five years without this?” The head of his cock notched at her entrance and he pushed in, just the tiniest bit, teasing both of them. “I’m already addicted to you, Liv. We’re going to starve, because you make me want to do nothing but fuck.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, causing his grip in her hair to tighten and her scalp to sting slightly, which only ramped up her arousal even more. “Then fuck me, Lucian. Whenever, wherever, however you want me, I’m yours.”

“Mine,” he ground out and then thrust deep inside her in one brutal stroke. She cried out, her pussy spasming around him as she stretched to accommodate his thick cock, a burn radiating through her as she took him. He gripped her hip with his other hand, pulling her against him and sinking even deeper. She bit her lip to muffle the scream of pleasure trying to burst out of her, the burning fading into something much, much hotter as she adjusted to his massively thick cock inside her. “God, Liv,” he said, slowly withdrawing and then thrusting all the way back in. “You’re so fucking tight I can barely stand it. So tight and wet and perfect, sweetheart.”

His hand slid from her hip and down her thigh, cupping her where they were joined. The slick sounds of his cock moving in and out of her filled the space, mingling with the moans and harsh breaths escaping both of them.

He moved his fingers in a slow, firm circle over her pulsing clit as he stroked in and out of her, and she felt the searing pressure start to twist low in her belly, making her clench around him. He thrust in and out of her harder, deeper, his hips slamming into her ass. “Wanna feel you come all over my cock as I fuck you, sweetheart.”

She let out a loud moan, her entire body shaking, sweat beading on her skin as he rode her hard, his thrusts brutal, almost punishing.

So incredibly perfect.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “You feel so good inside me, Lucian. God.”

He thrust into her harder, hitting a spot deep inside her she hadn’t even known was there and she started to come, her orgasm rocking through her like an earthquake, making everything unsteady. She screamed out his name as she pulsed madly around him, pleasure making her limbs shake, making her entire body feel as though it were one giant, glowing throb. No one had ever made her come like that. Only Lucian.

He rumbled out an approving groan, slowing his thrusts, dragging his cock over that spot that had set her off over and over again, prolonging her orgasm. Wringing out every last drop of pleasure, every last throb and pulse until she felt limp. He let go of her hair and slipped his hand from between her legs, falling over her, his chest to her back as he trailed kisses across her shoulders, still moving steadily in and out of her. His stamina was ridiculous and something she’d never experienced with guys her own age. Everything with Lucian—every touch, every kiss, every sexual thing they did—paled in comparison to anything she’d ever experienced before. He’d ruined her for other men, and she was completely fine with that because she knew that she’d never want anyone else. Only Lucian.

“I want you to ride me,” he said, his voice low and rough. She moaned, nodding enthusiastically, and he pulled out of her. Somehow, she managed to get her shaky arms and legs to cooperate long enough to get up off the bench, watching with anticipation as Lucian laid himself out on it, his legs on either side. He fisted his glistening cock and she sank down onto him, sighing as he filled her back up again. A feeling of completion nearly overwhelming in its intensity stole her breath and made her eyes sting. Yes, all of this was messy and complicated and potentially dangerous, but none of that mattered. Not when she was his and he was hers.

Her palms splayed on his muscled chest, she planted her feet on the floor. Then she lifted herself and slid back down his cock, impaling herself completely, taking him so deep that the feeling of him inside her annihilated everything else. They both let out a loud moan, and he slid his hands from her hips and up her sides to her breasts. She threw her head back and rode him harder at the feeling of his huge hands on her breasts, loving the rasp of his palms over her hardened nipples.

“You have the most gorgeous tits, Liv,” he said, his gaze heavy-lidded as he stared up at her. His thumbs flicked over her nipples, making her clench around his cock. “Such pretty little nipples, so hard for me right now.” He gave them a gentle tug and she shuddered, swiveling her hips as she ground down against him. Then, he dragged the tips of his fingers around the outer edges of her nipples, making her gasp and shudder, making her ride him even harder. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart,” he groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet her, his fingers plucking at her nipples then retreating to massage her breasts. “I can feel you dripping all over me.” He sat up halfway, his abs flexing beneath her, his gaze trained on where they were joined. “Fuck, you look so pretty stretched around me like that.”

She made the world’s most undignified sound, somewhere between a grunt and a plea, but she didn’t care. She was too far gone to care about anything but his hands on her breasts, his dirty words in her ears, the slide of his gorgeously thick cock in and out of her pussy. He pinched her nipples hard—harder than she would’ve thought she liked—and she started to come again, her head thrown back as she shuddered through another release, her movements becoming jerky and irregular as she tried to keep riding him.

He dropped his hands to her hips, urging her up and down his cock as she trembled and pulsed around him, her orgasm still shuddering through her. “Oh God, Lucian. Fuck me. Fuck me, baby, just like that,” she panted out, clenching and throbbing and shaking. Sweat slicked her body and she collapsed down on top of him, bringing her mouth to his, her eyes fluttering closed. “Your cock feels so good,” she whispered against his lips. “Want you to fuck me forever.”

“Liv,” he growled, raising his head and pressing his forehead to hers, his hips slamming up into her. “Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.” He lifted a hand from her hip and threaded his fingers into her hair, gripping her in place. “Look at me, sweetheart.” She managed to pry her eyes open, moaning at the scorching heat shining out at her from his. “That’s it, look at me as I come inside you. Fuck, gonna fill you up.” He groaned, a deep, rumbling sound that was ragged and rough and beautiful. He thrust up into her one last time and she felt him start pulsing and jerking inside her. She brought her mouth back to his, kissing him through his orgasm, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

After several more spurts, he stilled inside her and wrapped his arms around her, their kiss becoming slow and relaxed, luxuriating in the afterglow.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. “Holy shit.”

“Mmmhmm,” he rumbled, stroking a hand up and down her back. “Holy shit.” He exhaled a shaky breath, trailing kisses down her neck. She moaned softly, curling into him, around him.

And then her stomach growled so loudly she was pretty sure people in Brooklyn heard it.

“Sorry,” she said with an embarrassed grin, lifting her head.

Lucian chuckled. “I guess I’d better feed you, huh?”

“With everything that happened at the restaurant, I didn’t eat much of my dinner.”

“Let’s get dressed and I’ll order something.”

She kissed him and when her stomach growled again, they both laughed.